


Secret Admirer

by dutchmoxie



Series: Bellarke Tropes [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Kid Fic, Trope Bingo Round 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 10:34:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2021817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dutchmoxie/pseuds/dutchmoxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten-year-old Clarke Griffin decides to make sure Bellamy Blake's sixteenth birthday is special - with gifts. </p>
<p>Pre-series Kid fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret Admirer

Bellamy Blake does not talk much to the other kids. He keeps to himself and cares for his mother – a trait all the adults admire. Most fifteen-year-old boys have parties and create terrible recipes for moonshine, but not Bellamy Blake. 

She is kind of impressed. She’s been watching him for a while now – the tall boy with the dark hair and skin that is tan even though there is no outside. Her ten-year-old brain finds him fascinating for some reason. He probably does not know that she exists, but she knows more about him than anyone else on the Ark. 

Sometimes he sneaks food with him when he leaves the mess hall, and she wants to tell Mrs. Blake that she must be proud to have a son who takes care of her so well. He refuses to feed his own rumbling stomach until his mother does the same. 

It is admirable. 

He doesn’t smile enough, though. For a fifteen-year-old, he looks too old and too serious. He looks like he is a parent – she knows that look in his eyes, because that is what her daddy does whenever she makes him worry. 

And she knows that his sixteenth birthday will be soon. She knows that his mother will most likely forget about this momentous occasion – and she firmly believes that this is wrong. Everyone should get presents on their birthday. 

So she makes it her mission to give him the most awesome birthday she can, all without revealing her identity to him. She will be a secret admirer of sorts – daddy has told her a lot of stories about a holiday called Valentine’s Day that was all about secret admirers and love. She thinks that sounds like a holiday that should still be celebrated. 

Her presents for him might not be anything special, since she depends on whatever she can grab around their rooms or the halls. But she will use everything she can to make it the best birthday he has ever had. 

Since her resources are so limited, she ends up using her drawing skills for several of his presents – sixteen presents, one for each year. She spreads them out over the day, so that she can’t get caught with tons of presents on her, and so that it will stay a surprise for him. She is starting to think he has never experienced a nice surprise. 

In the morning, when she wakes up – at least an hour before she normally does – she leaves the first four presents in front of his door. A hand-woven bracelet she made from straps of leather she found, a single strawberry she snagged from the mess hall, a book about war that her father wanted to throw out, and a hand-made birthday card.

Hiding around the corner, she waits for Bellamy or his mother to come out and notice her meagre offerings for this special occasion. Her tired eyes can barely focus, but finally the door opens, and the birthday boy himself is revealed. 

It takes him several long seconds to properly see his gifts, and the soft smile that briefly lights up his face is something that she wishes she could capture on paper and save for future generations. There is a light shining from his soul when he smiles. 

The next two times, with eight more gifts, she doesn’t get the chance to stick around and watch – for that she has to wait until the final batch of gifts is ready. She used her special ink for the final drawing, and it has to be completely dry before she can move it. She will not be giving him a smudged drawing for his birthday. 

Finally, the ink is dry and she can move. Her parents have been watching her oddly all day, but she is still trying to keep this a secret from them. The fewer people know about this, the less likely it is for Bellamy Blake to find out that all these birthday presents came from her, Clarke Griffin. He doesn’t like what he thinks are pity gifts from the privileged citizens of the Ark. 

No, it is best if he never finds out about this. 

Sure, she is tempted for a short while, especially when she sees how awed he is by the art she did of both him and his mother. She made sure her lines were strong and crisp on the recycled paper – and even though she is only ten, the drawings did not turn out that bad. And judging by the look in his eyes, her late nights paid off. All of the secrets were worth it just because he is smiling now. 

It may seem like all of the other presents are forgotten, but she is okay with that. She will always remember the way his eyes widened and then shone as he gazed at something that she created. His dark eyes seemed lighter. The weight seemed to fall off his strong shoulders for just a minute or so. 

And that was enough. 

b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c/b/c

She is pretty sure that he never found out that his gifts had come from her. She is unsure if he even remembers the damn gifts – she hopes he does, even though he turned out to be very different than she imagined him to be. 

But they find themselves co-leaders of an entire tribe of teenagers, even though she’s barely even an adult herself. His protective tendencies have extended from just including his sister (!) to including hovering over her every step. If it were up to him, she would never leave the damn camp – maybe once in a blue moon if he was there to protect her. She’d proven herself capable often enough, and yet he hovered. 

At some point, she just fashioned some pencils out of the remains of art supplies she found around camp. She figured that if he was going to keep her holed up in the medical tent, she might as well keep herself entertained. 

The latest victim of her atrophying art skills is Octavia Blake. The other girl is constantly in and out of med bay, making it easier to capture the lines of her face on paper. 

“Shit,” she curses as she smudges a lock of hair with her clumsy fingers. 

“Well, well, princess,” Bellamy struts into the tent like he owns the place. 

Of course he would come in to check if she was actually obeying his damn orders. She rolls her eyes at him as she tries to hide her drawing – he probably won’t approve of this particular use of resources. 

“I am still in one piece,” she stands up, the drawing hidden under some tools. “Want me to turn around so you can check the back?” 

“I’d rather see what you were working on,” Bellamy sees right through her, the ass. 

With his long legs, it only takes him about two strides to reach her – and to quickly grab the drawing from its hiding place. 

Now she just has to wait for the mockery, for him to tear her drawing apart or to ridicule her meagre attempt at catching his sister in all her glory. 

“It was you,” he turns to her, eyes wide. “Those drawings! You got better at it, but mom’s looked so much like this. You drew them all.” 

Bellamy is supposed to tease her, to mock her, to deride her skills and her poor usage of their limited resources. Instead he runs his fingers over her less than clean lines – and he is actually smiling fondly. 

“Can I keep this?” he asks. 

“If you want,” she feels completely out of her depth. 

With a final smirk, Bellamy Blake strides out of the tent.


End file.
